


Delicate

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: Julian meets someone very important at a bar





	Delicate

_This ain't for the best_   
_My reputation's never been worse, so_   
_You must like me for me_   
_We can't make_   
_Any promises now, can we, babe?_   
_But you can make me a drink_

Julian tilts his head to the side obediently, watching his reflection as the makeup artist sweeps a brush across his skin. When she’s finished, the hairstylist takes over, pulling a comb through his gelled hair until it lies the way the photographer wanted.

Once that’s done, he’s led onto a brightly-lit set. Three models — nobody Julian’s heard of — are already milling around, tugging at their clothes and adjusting their hair. Julian doesn’t bother, knowing that if anything is less than perfect, some assistant will be sent out to fix him.

He’s only half-listening as the photographer calls out instructions, ordering them into poses and asking for more spirit, Kyra. Julian already knows exactly what his best poses are, the angles he has to create with the lights to bring out his cheekbones and make his eyes sparkle.

He looks up at the camera through his lashes, trying to make his gaze as sultry as possible. The photographer shouts praise, which makes the other models sneer with jealousy.

He doesn’t care, though.

They don’t matter.

When it’s all over, Julian’s pulled off-set by his assistant, who’s tapping furiously at her Blackberry as she gives Julian the rest of his schedule — a radio interview in an hour, re-shoots for his latest movie following that, an appearance at a party later tonight.

She barely glances Julian’s way as she rattles off his commitments, pushing him into a limo shortly after. Julian sighs and leans back, is halfway through considering taking a nap on the way to his interview when his phone buzzes.

_Tonight? 9PM?_

He smiles.

_Dive bar on the East Side, where you at?_   
_Phone lights up my nightstand in the black_   
_Come here, you can meet me in the back_   
_Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you_   
_Oh damn, never seen that color blue_   
_Just think of the fun things we could do_   
_'Cause I like you_

Julian smiles as he answers the same questions he’s heard a dozen times, throwing in a joke here and there — “ _to make yourself more approachable_ ”, his publicist was always saying. Despite it being just a radio interview, he makes sure to smile winningly throughout, knowing that the hosts will talk about how he looked in the studio.

His voice turns serious when he talks about the movie, light and teasing when they ask about his personal life.

When the questions turn to his dating life, he plays coy; sprinkles in a few allusions to beautiful actresses he’d been seen with, just to stir up the conversation.

He gives his fans exactly what they want: someone funny and friendly, but never too fleshed out. They want him just detailed enough that they feel like they know him, but just vague enough that they can project their own ideas of who he _should_ be.

When the interview’s over, the host tries to keep him around, asks him to take a selfie for his Instagram.

Julian smiles brightly, throws an arm around a shoulder like they’re old friend. As soon as the picture’s over with, the host turns away from him and starts tapping a caption, as if they’ve forgotten Julian’s still there. He shuffles out of the room without a goodbye, sparing a smile for the one assistant who nods at him on his way out.

_This ain't for the best_   
_My reputation's never been worse, so_   
_You must like me for me_   
_Yeah, I want you_   
_We can't make_   
_Any promises now, can we, babe?_   
_But you can make me a drink_

Julian loves his job. Truly, honestly loves what he does.

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t draining at times.

Like today, when Julian’s stuck re-doing scenes he filmed months ago, all because the director disliked the shirt they’d put his co-star in that day. He says all his lines the exact way he had last time, hits all his cues, smiles and frowns and laughs at all the right moments.

He’s just so restless today.

He wants more than this, sometimes. More than the bright lights and rehearsed lines and fake smiles. Wants real, genuine emotions. Wants people to look at him instead of _through_ him.

He doesn’t get that often, in Hollywood.

There’s too much risk, in him exposing himself; he’s seen a dozen people get stabbed in the back by those they thought were friends for just a few moments of fame, seen people betray boyfriends and girlfriends and husbands and wives. He knows exactly how eager the paparazzi are to capture him in a moment of weakness or shame, sees the way they stake out bars and clubs waiting for a celebrity to walk out looking out of control.

But he’s gotten good at faking it, at smiling and laughing and charming anyone who crosses his path.

Unfortunately, he knows they’re always just as fake as he is.

_Is it cool that I said all that?_   
_Is it chill that you're in my head?_   
_'Cause I know that it's delicate_   
_Is it cool that I said all that_   
_Is it too soon to do this yet?_   
_'Cause I know that it's delicate_   
_Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?_   
_Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?_   
_Delicate_

He’s laughing at something, though he isn’t sure he could explain why it’s so funny.

The woman he’s talking to is laughing too, though, placing a manicured hand on his shoulder just as a flash goes off nearby. He notices the tilt of her head, the way she’s angling toward the light to show off her best features. He doesn’t let it affect his own smile, though, and waits patiently for the conversation to be over before excusing himself.

A half-dozen people call out to him as he crosses the room.

He isn’t sure he’s actually _met_ any of them.

Still, he lets himself get pulled into conversations. Pretends to listen to the gossip they share and the stories they tell. Tells a few of his own, when they turn to him expectantly, knowing exactly what anecdotes will get the biggest laugh.

Lets them all act like they know him, knowing that more than a few will talk in later interviews, about what good friends they are, about how they really know Julian Larson.

_Third floor on the West Side, me and you_   
_Handsome, your mansion with a view_   
_Do the girls back home touch you like I do?_   
_Long night, with your hands up in my hair_   
_Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs_   
_Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share_   
_'Cause I like you_

Halfway through the party, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror and startles for a moment.

He looks _miserable_.

He isn’t having much fun, it’s true, but he’s not quite sure how everybody else seems to think he’s having a good time. His smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes, and his cheeks are sore from all the faked laughing.

He chances a look around the room, but nobody seems to be looking at him. He takes a step to the door, another when nobody stops him. Within thirty seconds, he’s outside in the cool night air, with no one the wiser. It’s raining, a bit, and he tilts his head to the sky, letting the drops hit his face.

A grin — a real one — spreads across his face this time, and he checks his watch.

8:29

His driver is just down the street, he knows, waiting for him to call for a ride back home.

But the bar is just a few blocks away, and he has always loved the rain…

_Sometimes I wonder when you sleep_   
_Are you ever dreaming of me?_   
_Sometimes when I look into your eyes_   
_I pretend you're mine, all the damn time_   
_'Cause I like you_

He’s practically giddy as he jogs down the empty street, and is overcome with the sudden urge to throw his arms out and twirl in a circle.

Nobody’s watching, after all.

He takes a shortcut through an alley, pauses momentarily to tilt his face towards the sky again. He can feel his hair sticking to his neck, knows he’s messing up the careful work the stylists had done just a few hours ago. He really can’t blame himself to care though, not with this happy bubble of _joy_ in his chest.

He manages to maneuver past a crowd unnoticed, skips through an intersection when he spots the lit sign of the bar across the street.

He pauses at the doorway for just a moment, then takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

A few heads glance up when he walks in, absolutely drenched from the rain.

But he only cares about one.

_Is it cool that I said all that?_   
_Is it chill that you're in my head?_   
_'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate)_   
_Yeah, I want you_   
_Is it cool that I said all that_   
_Is it too soon to do this yet?_   
_'Cause I know that it's delicate_   
_Delicate_

The blond’s sitting in the back of the bar, at a table half-concealed by a stone pillar. He’s angled towards the door, but he isn’t looking up. His gaze is focused down on his phone, and Julian feels his own vibrate in his pocket.

The blond sets his phone down and finally looks up, and his face brightens when he catches sight of Julian. He lifts a hand in a small wave, rises to his feet when Julian starts heading his way.

“Hey,” he breathes, when Julian reaches the table, “You made it.”

“‘course I did,” Julian grins, slipping his hand into the other man’s.

He rises to his toes, pressing a soft kiss to warm, willing lips.

One large, comforting hand slips around his waist, rests lightly on the small of his back, holding Julian steady.

_Is it cool that I said all that?_   
_Is it chill that you're in my head?_   
_'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate)_   
_Yeah, I want you_   
_Is it cool that I said all that_   
_Is it too soon to do this yet?_   
_'Cause I know that it's delicate_   
_Delicate_

When Julian pulls back, his gaze is soft, and a small, _real_  smile graces his lips.

“Like I’d leave you hanging, Sawyer.”

**Author's Note:**

> CP mentioned Julian doing the Delicate music video, and then this happened.
> 
> I'm not sorry.


End file.
